Blood Song

front stoop. She looked enough like Ivy that it was startling. He was laughing until he looked up

and saw me.

Daddy.

The joy slid from his face. He turned to the boy and said something. I couldn’t hear it, but I

could see the urgency in his eyes. The boy seemed startled but obediently bent to gather up his

things. Not fast enough, apparently. My father hurried forward, chivvying him and his baby sister

into the house.

I froze, right hand extended, my mouth open to cal out.

My father’s eyes met mine for one endless moment.

He closed the door.

“How very tragic.” I recognized the voice that slid into my dream as smooth as silk. Jones was back

and he was being sarcastic. “Poor little thing.”

“Get the hel out of my head.”

“No. I don’t think so. We need to talk and I don’t have a lot of time.”

The dream shifted and I could see him. He was in a gymnasium, standing in the center of a

pentagram drawn within the circle at center court. Both the circle and pentagram shone red and wet by

the light of the black candles placed at each point of the star. He’d had to use his own blood to draw

those symbols, and I felt their power, and the pain in his forearms, even through the filtering dream.

“I need you to get a message to Kevin Landingham.”

“What, you can’t use a phone?”

“Not safely. And while I’m not sure how he did it, he’s managed to cut me off from hearing his

thoughts.” Jones sounded pissed. “Somebody’s gone off the reservation. It’s got to be one of the

telepaths, otherwise I’d have been able to pick up on it—or somebody at the main office would’ve

tipped me off to it. Whoever it is, they’ve eliminated the few clairvoyants we had on the payrol .”

“So, what’s the message?”

“We’re in the middle of a high-profile assignment. It’s too important to let it fail over a rogue. So

they’re offering Kevin a deal. A one-year limited contract, hunting hard targets, starting with the rogue.

He can write his own ticket. And they’l guarantee your safety. No one associated with the firm wil ever

use you or harm you in any way. They’l take whatever binding oaths he wants on it.”

“Why would he care about my safety?” I wouldn’t have said it out loud, but we were operating in a

dream, in my thoughts, so he heard it just the same.

“You don’t know?” He chuckled and it was creepy as hel . “Oh, my. Wel , if he hasn’t told you, I

certainly won’t. But be sure to give him my message. Word for word.”

He stepped forward, very deliberately rubbing out the edge of the circle with his foot. The image in my

mind went to black. Apparently our conversation was over.

I opened my eyes, no longer able to sleep. As I did, I became simultaneously aware of several things:

I wasn’t in a sleeping bag on the floor of the study of Reverend Al’s church; my head was pounding;

and I had a terrible, metal ic taste in my mouth. I was in a straitjacket, on the floor of a padded room,

and Dr. Greene was watching me from behind the safety window.

26

You are a damned nuisance.” Greene’s voice was only slightly distorted coming through the speakers

into the room. “The drugs in the pizza were supposed to keep you out for twenty-four hours.”

I’d been drugged. That explained the taste and the bindings. I’d never have let myself get in this

situation otherwise. The pizza was delayed, cold, and tasted like crap. You’d think I would have been

suspicious. Sheesh. And while I was stil a little thickheaded, I was starting to be able to think through

the sedative-induced fog. Let’s hear it for the vampire metabolism. Or maybe siren. Or both. Whatever,

I was awake. But I couldn’t do anything. Yet.

“They haven’t even had time to get to the church yet, let alone link it to you and declare you a danger.

I haven’t had time to meet with Dr. Scott.” She gave an exaggerated sigh. She stood behind the window

in her sensible gray suit, arms crossed over her chest, fingers drumming absently against her arm.

“Personal y, I’d rather just kil you outright. But that would bring your werewolf into things and my

employer has been very clear about not wanting him involved until after sunrise tomorrow.” My

werewolf? Kevin wasn’t anywhere close to mine. Her fingers drummed faster. “We’l try another shot.

Perhaps a higher dose—” She turned and walked from the observation room.

I didn’t have long, perhaps only a minute or two. “Ivy, Vicki, are you here?” I tried to keep my voice a

bare whisper so that it wouldn’t get picked up by the room’s monitoring equipment. Of course Greene

had talked freely, so she had probably turned it off. But I decided to be quiet, just in case.

The temperature of the room dropped until I could see my breath fogging in the air. I wasn’t surprised.

Ghosts are more likely to manifest when the person they’re attached to is in a strong emotional state.

Can’t get much stronger than life-threatening terror. I could almost feel the adrenaline bubbling through

my veins. “Find Dr. Scott. Tel him what’s happening. Then warn Reverend Al. Get Gran and Mom out of

there.”

I rol ed onto my back and began pul ing against the confining straitjacket with al of my might. I’d had

enough strength to strain the metal of the table back in the lab. It should be easy to Hulk my way out of

a contraption of mere canvas and leather. Assuming, of course, it wasn’t bespel ed. Which it probably

was. But it wasn’t like I had a glut of options. So I struggled, and I pul ed, and succeeded in just about

pul ing my own arms from their sockets. But spel ed or not, the fabric was starting to give. I strained

harder. To hel with it. My shoulders would heal. I wanted, needed, this damned thing off.

As if from a distance I heard the crash of waves, the cal of gul s. And suddenly I knew. I had cal ed

power when I fel asleep at the office, had influenced Dr. Scott. And I could do it again. I concentrated

as I pul ed, thinking of Dr. Scott, of Gerry and every other male I knew who worked at Birchwoods. I

didn’t know what time it was, didn’t real y know what I was doing, but I had to try. Because here came

Dr. Greene, carrying a needle, her sensible heels clicking briskly against the linoleum.

I pul ed harder against the bindings, adrenaline roaring through my system, giving my senses the

hyperfocus they’d had the other morning. Her breathing, harsh and loud. And, fainter, in the distance,

but closing fast, running footsteps.

She lunged at me, syringe at the ready, but I was too quick for her. Moving with unnatural speed, I

rol ed, kicking at her knee with both feet. The blow connected hard, and with the extra strength behind it

her knee didn’t just give, it tore, the bone breaking through the skin with a spray of blood.

Screaming, she fel to the floor, her lower leg nearly severed. Blood was everywhere, the scent nearly

overpowering. She grabbed her leg, trying to apply pressure, but it wasn’t working.

My stomach growled, my eyes started to bleed red. I could see the needle, far from her reach. Hear

the sound of her racing pulse as she stared at me in horror and growing fear. My arms were free, the

straitjacket torn apart, but I couldn’t remember doing it. Couldn’t think past the roaring in my ears and